Grandpapa, Grandmaman
by PhantomTwilighter2009
Summary: Bibiana is the grandaughter of Christine and Erik. What happens when she meets an elderly couple in the woods while she is fuming about her mother and father? Continuation of Come to Me.


**I wrote this story because I had the urge to write something that was still related to PotO, but it didn't involve as much Christine and Erik. So, this is the continuation of ****Come to Me****. The girl, Bibiana, is Dominique and Nadir's daughter, just to let everyone know! Hope you all enjoy!**

**Grandpapa, Grandmaman?**

Bibiana was lost. It was official. She was lost. She had run away from her tiny cottage after she fought with her parents. Looking back on it now, she wished that she hadn't gotten as mad as she had; she had told her parents that she was pregnant and couldn't remember who the father was. Her papa had asked why she couldn't remember and all her maman could do was sit there in shock. Bibiana tried to explain everything, but she couldn't say it; she had been rapped. She honestly didn't remember how it had happened…the only thing she could remember from that night was the man threatening her…his crazed, ice blue eyes staring straight through her.

"Oh, Grandpapa, Grandmaman, what am I going to do? Papa is mad at me and Maman…she's so disappointed! But it wasn't my fault! I didn't want this to happen! I didn't want to become pregnant with a rapist's child! I don't want any of this!" Bibiana shouted, pulling at her thick raven hair and dropping to her knees. Why did her life turn out like this? She had always been a good child and never did anything wrong.

"Mademoiselle, is there something wrong?" a voice asked. Bibiana didn't want to look up, but there was something familiar about that voice; it was like a voice in a dream…Looking up, she had expected a young man, but what she found was the exact opposite: it was an elderly gentleman and his wife, probably out for an evening stroll through the French countryside.

Sniffing, Bibiana couldn't find her voice, but was able to nod as she stood back up, wiping away her tears. The last thing she wanted was for the couple to take pity on her.

"Are you sure? My husband heard you crying." The lady said, placing a gentle hand on the man's shoulder. They looked so familiar, and sounded so familiar! The man was tall; he must have been a giant in his youth, a broad chest and shoulders, and gray hair. The woman must have been a belle in her youth! She had fair, pale skin, very few wrinkles; her snow white hair was tied up into a bun, but a few of the tendrils had escaped their confines and curled around her face. _Who are these people? Why do I feel as if I should know them?_

"Oui, Madame; I'm sorry if I interrupted your evening." Bibiana rushed, playing with the blue boy that sat on her dress. She just wanted to get home as soon as possible now; she wanted to apologize and explain to her papa and maman the misunderstanding and receive their forgiveness.

"You didn't interrupt anything, dear," the woman smiled, "we were heading back home anyway."

_That's how Maman smiles…always so kind and gentle looking…_

"Excuse me, Monsieur et Madame, but I actually do need some help. You see, I'm terribly lost and I don't know my way back home." She explained, trying her best not to rush.

"Oh, you poor thing; we'll help you get back home. My husband and I have lived in this area for many years. We know it like the back of our hands."

"Can you remember what trail you were taking?" the man asked, offering to help in anyway he could. The girl was very pretty; she had waist length raven hair, soft gold eyes, light brown skin, and a petite figure which one could mistake her for being a ballerina.

"Non, Monsieur. All I can remember is running and not caring where I was going or what was going to happen." Bibiana whispered, ashamed that she had been so careless. _Are Maman and Papa worried? I wonder if they've told Uncle Charles yet because I have been gone for nearly four hours. Or are they glad that they got rid of their child? The one who brought disgrace upon their house, even though she was completely innocent and had no control over the situation? _

"Don't worry, my dear; if anyone can get you home, it'll be my husband. He is an amazing man." The elderly woman stated proudly, "And if you don't mind me asking, what is your name?"

"It's Bibiana, Madame. Bibiana Khan."

"Khan? I'm guessing that your father is Persian." The man smirked, a twinkle of some sort in his eye.

"Oui, Monsieur. My papa is Nadir Khan and my maman is Dominique Khan." She explained, hoping that any information that she could give them would help her get home quicker and back into the arms of the people she loved the most.

"Dominique Khan? Was her maiden name Dominique Destler, by any chance?" the man commented; starting walk in the direction Bibiana had come from.

"Oui, Monsieur. My maman used to be the Prima Donna at the Paris Opera House, but she had to quit once she became pregnant with me." She continued. Why was she telling two strangers about her family's history? Bibiana knew that if her papa saw her like this he would be furious!

"That is why that name sounds so familiar! I believe we saw her perform one night…I believe it was for _Faust._"

"No, dear husband, it was the Phantom's opera, _Don Juan Triumphant_." The lady corrected. Bibiana nearly stopped in her tracks when she heard the lady speak; she sounded younger and her voice sounded like bells. _She sounded as if she were seventy just a minute ago! Now she sounds no older than Maman!_

"You're correct again, mon ange. We saw the young Prima Donna singing as Amita and I forget who played Don Juan, but that doesn't matter. Now that we know your maman's name, we'll get you home quicker than I originally though." The gentleman smiled, grasping his wife's petite hand with his larger, almost musical, one.

The group walked in a comfortable silence, but Bibiana knew something was wrong. Something always went wrong no matter what. _Just keep walking. We can do this. You're almost home and when you get their, you can apologize to your maman and papa and tell them everything that has happened. _But her thinking was interrupted by a laughter she knew all too well: the man's voice.

"Look here, gents, it's the young girl I told ye all about!" he cried in his thick Scottish accent. Bibiana inched as close as she could to the elderly couple, but she knew that her dark skin, black hair, and petite waist would be noticed.

"Do you know those young men, Bibiana?" the lady asked, turning around so she could see the three men following them.

"Non, Madame-"

"You should remember I, love. Didn't you like what I did those months ago?" the younger man smirked, his footsteps coming closer.

"She doesn't seem to want you a second time, mate." One of the other men commented. Bibiana felt one of them grab her hand, but before she could turn around and demand for them to release her, the gentleman she had been walking with grasped the man's wrist, nearly snapping it.

"I believe that the young lady doesn't know you, so, either you leave, or I'll snap your friend's wrist here."

Bibiana never guessed that a man of his age could be so strong! The man whose wrist was endanger of being snapped, was begging to be released while the other had run off, but the one who had done the unthinkable to her…the one who had rapped her, was standing his ground, staring at her with pure lust. "Release my mate and we'll be on our way."

"As you wish," the man said, dropping the other to the ground, "But if I find out that you've been following us, it'll be the last thing you'll ever do."

"Fine, old man. Come on, Gregory, we're out of here." The younger man said, taking one last look at his newest goal before walking off, his injured friend trailing behind him.

"Honestly, mon ange, I thought you were beyond death threats." The woman stated, glaring at her husband before she linked arms with Bibiana.

"Old habits die hard, my sweet. Now, is this area looking familiar at all, Mademoiselle Khan?"

Shaking her head, Bibiana tried her best not to cry; just seeing the man who haunted her dreams every night shook her to her very core. Staring straight ahead, she willed the tears to go away, but before they could, the elderly woman noticed right away. "My dear, why are you crying? We'll get you back home soon."

"I-Its not that…Madame, I did know one of those men; I don't…I don't want to tell you how or…w-why, but he…he-"

"You don't have to say anymore, Bibiana dear. I can see that it is troubling and if it distresses you, don't say another word." The woman soothed, sensing the girl's trouble. What could that foul young man done to such a pretty and confident girl?

"Merci, Madame," she sighed, gripping the sleeve of the woman's dress even tighter, "I think I know where we are now."

"How can you tell?" the man asked, trying to see if there were any lights in the distance to indicate that there was a house or village nearby, but he couldn't see anything.

"You see that tree," Bibiana pointed at an old oak with the symbols _B+K_ carved into the bark, "my cousin, Karl, and I used to play out here as children. We carved that into the tree to show the other children who lived nearby that the oak was our tree and ours alone. My uncle Charles wasn't exactly thrilled to find out that we had carved our names into a tree, explaining to us that it was what lovers did, but we didn't mind care; we were only five at the time and didn't think of the consequences of what would later happen."

"That's very sweet." The woman smiled, patting the young girl's hand. Perhaps Bibiana could tell them about that man, but she wouldn't force anything out of her mouth. For now, her and her husband just wanted to get her home.

After another hour or so of walking, Bibiana nearly cried when she saw the tiny cottage; her tiny cottage. Turning around, she gave a watery smile to the elderly couple who helped her home, but it fell as soon as she saw the young man coming up behind the couple, a pistol in hand. _No! He can't harm these people! He'd have to shoot me before he touched them._

"Is something wrong, Mademoiselle Khan?" the elderly man asked, wondering what the young woman was thinking.

"Go inside. I'll be in right behind you, I promise." Bibiana rushed, guiding them to the door of the small home. Before the couple could protest, and before her parents could see her, she shoved the couple inside the home and turned to face the man, who was grinning from ear to ear.

"I see you do remember me, my girl. Are you ready for round two?"

Straightening up and swallowing her cries for help, Bibiana held her head high as she walked towards the pathetic excuse of a man. "What is it that you want?"

"Feisty, eh? Well, I want you and Kirklin Irvin always gets what he wants." He glared evilly, tapping his pistol against his thigh. Why did he want her so badly? Normally people didn't give her a second glance because of who her mother married, but this man…he apparently didn't care about that.

"I'm sorry, Monsieur Kirklin, but I don't want you and Bibiana Khan doesn't have to take orders from a man."

"Oh? Is that so? In that case, my little darling, I'll just have to take you by force, just like last time."

Bibiana stood perfectly still as he mentioned that night. Why couldn't she remember? Was it possible that she had been knocked out?

"I can see what you're thinking and I can tell you why you don't remember," Kirklin grinned, "It's because I drugged you. You see, you were struggling too much in the alley and I didn't want you to cause a scene."

Memories began to pound on Bibiana's head as she recalled the night: she had been out with her maman and Tante Joanna and the two older women went inside a dress shop to find something to wear to Karl's wedding. She already had something picked out so Bibiana just waited outside, but then she saw the man walking up to her, trying to flirt with her and act like a gentleman. He wasn't half bad looking in the moonlight; he had long, blonde hair that he kept tied back, stubble, piercing green eyes, and a muscular physic. She wasn't interested so she paid the man no mind, until he brought out a dirty, well used knife and pressed it to her side. He threatened her, her maman, and her tante Joanna if she didn't follow him into the alley. Naturally she agreed, but kneed the man in his stomach before he could touch her, but before she could run out into the street and call for help, a cloth had been put to her face, causing her world to go black.

"So you see, we can do that again, or," he laughed, walking closer, "we can do this without fighting."

Before Bibiana had a chance to answer, she saw someone fly past her and straight towards Kirklin.

"How _dare_ you think of touching my daughter, you no good son of a bitch?!" Nadir cried, punching him in the face. By the time Kirklin was beaten beyond recognition, her maman, Uncle Charles, Tante Joanna, Karl and his wife, and the elderly couple were outside to see what was going on. Bibiana walked calmly over to her papa, who was still beating an unconscious Kirklin, and placed a hand on his broad shoulder.

"Papa, you can stop now, I'm fine." She whispered, biting back tears of pain. She should have told her family when it had actually happened! Perhaps if she had, the man could have been in jail already and her papa wouldn't be causing anyone harm!

Nadir heard his daughter's quiet words, but he couldn't find it in his heart to stop beating the man. Giving the bastard one last punch, he stood up and embraced his girl, silent sobs shaking his body. Nadir couldn't remember the last time he had acted in such a way; he was normally a quiet, peace loving person who never believed in violence.

"Papa, Papa, don't cry. You saved me, Papa. If you hadn't come out and…beaten this man, he would have rapped me…again." She said the last word as quietly as possible, but Nadir could still hear it. His precious daughter had been…rapped?

"I'm sorry, Bibiana. I'm so sorry that I couldn't protect you like a proper father should have."

"Don't worry, Papa. I'll be fine and so will my baby." She grinned slightly. She hadn't thought of Kirklin's child all night and now that she thought about it, it wouldn't be as bad as she originally thought. Yes, the child's father was a rapist, a rapist who was going to jail, but the baby would also be apart of her and that was something that she couldn't give up on. _"Never leave your family behind, regardless of what he or she had done in the past."_ Her maman used to quote that all the time when Bibiana was a child; it used to be a saying of her Grandmaman's.

"So, your child…that's its father?" her maman blurted out, sorrow evident in her voice.

"Yes, Maman, I'm pregnant with Kirklin's child, but we'll make sure…we'll make sure nothing happens…" she cried, clinging to her papa as if she were only a seven year old girl again.

Her whole family stared at her in shock, not quite accepting that Bibiana had been rapped. Karl was the first to break the tension as he walked up to his dear cousin, wrapping his arms around her tiny shoulders. "You don't have to be alone, Bibi."

Soon, everyone followed, including the elderly couple who had escorted her home, and surrounded the young teenager with compassion and sympathy that she never expected to get. She had heard rumors that most families gave their daughters to brothels if they had lost their virtue, willingly or not, but she had to remind herself that her family wasn't exactly what most would call normal.

"Je t'aime." Bibiana chocked out, glad that her family would always be with her, even if they continued to argue.

^.^

Later that night, Nadir returned from the local police department, turning in the man who had rapped his daughter. He walked over to his liquor cabinet, pouring himself a glass of scotch and tiptoed to Bibiana's room; she had nearly fainted after everyone let go of her, but the elderly man who had helped her home had caught her just in time and brought her inside, setting her on the sofa.

Sitting down on the green comforter, Nadir watched as his daughter slept peacefully for the first time in months; she had been plagued with nightmares, but she had refused to tell anyone about them and now he could understand why. _She didn't want to relive that night. I should have asked you more about it, mon ange, but all papas aren't perfect. _

"Bonne nuit, mon doux. Je t'aime." And with that, Nadir left Bibiana's room and walked down the hall towards his and his wife's bedroom. Swallowing the last of his scotch, he entered the room and smiled when he saw Dominique sitting on the bed, a picture of her parents lying in her lap.

"Bonsoir, mon cherie. What are you still doing up? Is something bothering you?" he questioned, looking down at the picture; it was the one of Monsieur and Madame's wedding day, but when he looked closer, he could see the tear drops on their faces. Looking up, he saw his Dominique crying, biting her lip to help her tears stop.

"T-Those…people who helped B-Bibiana home…those…t-those were my parents." Dominique sobbed, clutching the frame in her petite, musical hands.

"Niquie, those people couldn't have been your parents; you told me that your mother died when Charles was born and I saw your father pass away with my own eyes."

"I know, but…nobody, except for me, Papa, and our Bibiana have golden eyes, Nadir and that woman looked exactly like my mother!" she protested, setting the photo next to her and Nadir's own wedding photo.

"I know that they looked a lot like your mother and father, but I'm sure it wasn't them." Nadir explained, changing into his nightclothes and climbing into bed next to his wife.

"But you're forgetting one, important detail, mon amour." Dominique yawned, drying her eyes on his silky bed shirt.

"And what could that possibly be, mon rose?"

"The gentleman was wearing a white porcelain mask."

**And that is the end of it! I think I'm going to write an epilogue for this, but I hope you guys like it! It took forever to write and it's so much more different from how I originally planned it to be, but most of my stories, and many others, turn out like that. So, be kind and review! **


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